Married in Green
by Bardess of Avon
Summary: Graziella-centric oneshot. "Married in green, ashamed to be seen." Tiger is not Riff and never will be.


A/N: This is all the inspiration of my lovely fanfiction twin **Vee**; we were discussing what happened to Graziella after Riff died, and basically this is what came of it. This is a continuation of sorts to her fic "her fair judgment," but you certainly don't have to read that one to understand this fic. The title is taken from that old Victorian poem that our grandmothers are so fond of reciting. :)

Feedback is not necessary but much more appreciated than the favorites/alerts from silent lurkers :)

Disclaimer: Absolutely nothing is mine, merely the concept.

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A wedding is supposed to be the happiest day of a girl's life. It's the day she gets to be queen and everyone lets her. It's the day she plans all her life and dreams about. Graziella has dreamed about her wedding so many times that planning it out shouldn't be a problem; dreamed about what her wedding dress will look like and who she wants to invite and which church it will be at and where the reception will be. And when she plans her wedding, it isn't much different than her daydreams.

The only problem is that whenever she dreamed of her wedding in the past, it was to Riff, not Tiger, and she was never knocked up.

Every time she looks at the small, cheap ring, she has to wonder why the hell she ever agreed to marry Tiger in the first place. She doesn't love him; she's still in love with Riff, even though he's six feet under and has been for a couple months now. And this bun in the oven? Tiger isn't even the baker, although he thinks he is. And that's when she remembers that Riff is the reason she's marrying Tiger. Riff's baby is growing inside of her, and for some reason she can't quite name, she's ashamed.

She should be happy, she knows; now she has a piece of Riff to keep forever. But somehow, she's not. Somehow, every time she thinks about it, she misses Riff so bad it hurts and now she has to remember him forever. She can't ever forget him, ever move on, because he'll always be there, looking up at her through their child's eyes and loving her because their child will have no idea that she doesn't deserve it.

When she tells her parents, they are too stunned to say much of anything. They make the wedding arrangements with a bemused but slightly relieved air. She thinks her mother suspects something, but if she does, she never lets on. Her brother, Fred, refuses to speak to her for a week. He adored Riff, loved him like a brother. He hates Tiger for not being Riff, and even though Graziella snaps at him to be nice, she secretly feels the same way. Tiger is not Riff and never will be.

She asks Minnie, Clarice, Bernice, and Pauline to be her bridesmaids and Velma to be her maid of honor. The reactions are all different; Minnie looks surprised but squeals in glee; Clarice stares at her for a moment before forcing a smile and saying she'd love to; Bernice's cigarette falls out of her mouth as it falls open; Pauline asks, "Why Tiger? You could do _much_ better!"; and Velma just shakes her head. "I hope ya know what you're doin'," she sighs.

Graziella hopes so, too.

It's a shabby wedding. No one asks her if she's sure she wants to do this, and Graziella sort of wishes they would. Velma doesn't smile; she can't. The only bridesmaid who is happy about the whole affair is Minnie, and even her happiness is mingled with confusion; for even Minnie, naive as she is, has to wonder why Graziella would marry Tiger, whom she has never shown any real affection for, only three months after Riff died.

The bridesmaid dresses are a nightmare; they were snatched off the rack at a second-hand store and Pauline's has a stain at the hem of hers. They all force horrible grins on their faces, though, and tell Graziella that they're beautiful, and this makes her cry. She's been doing a lot of that lately.

She spends the night before her wedding curled up on her bathroom floor, wrapping her arms around herself and crying so hard to just die right then and there. She cries so hard she makes herself sick a few times. It's like her child is telling her It's disappointed in her, that It wants It's father. And all she can think is _I do too_.

She's pale and tired-looking the next morning, and it takes the combined efforts of all the bridesmaids to apply enough rouge and lipstick and mascara and eyeliner and eyeshadow until she looks halfway healthy, back to her old, painted self. They toy with her hair until it looks like something a real beautiful movie star like Grace Kelly might wear. Her dress looks beautiful on her, she can't deny that.

"You're the prettiest bride I've ever seen," Minnie says in a hushed, reverent tone, her eyes sparkling with happiness and hope.

But Graziella suddenly can't breathe. Her dress is too tight, too itchy, and she suddenly wants to tear it off. Her hair feels foreign on her own head and her makeup seems so obvious and tacky. She _feels_ obvious and tacky. She wonders why no one stopped her. Isn't there a law against marrying someone so soon after the love of your life dies? _Shouldn't_ there be a law?

And then the veil is gently draped over her head and smothers out what little fire she had left in her, and now she is nothing but dying embers.

The music starts up and her little cousin Patty starts down the aisle, tossing handfuls of flower petals in her Sunday best. Clarice leads the bridesmaids down the aisle, head held high and a smile on her face. Next comes Bernice, her hips swishing confidently. Pauline follows her, throwing winks around, and last comes Minnie, beaming and so happy she's misty-eyed. Graziella's old man looks at her and smiles. "Are you ready?"

Is she ready? Is she ready to walk down the aisle and sign herself away to Tiger? She can picture life with him and it's not pleasant. He's too stupid to get a decent job and he's just not _Riff_. For a fleeting moment, she considers picking up her skirts and running out of the chapel, away from Tiger and this wedding. She has no idea where she'd go or what she'd do, but she'd find something, anything.

And then she remembers the baby. _Riff's_ baby. It needs a father, even if it isn't the real father. This baby needs two people to raise It, not just one, and It needs a real home. And this baby is coming, ready or not. So Graziella manages to smile at her father as she takes his arm. "Yes," she whispers.

Tiger's face lights up as he sees her, and Graziella has to restrain the sudden wave of nausea. It's just the baby, she tells herself. She forces her lips into a horrible attempt at a smile as her father turns her over to Tiger. She wants to keep holding onto her father and beg him to take her home and tuck her in bed like he used to, she's still his little girl, won't he please just take her home, but she can't, she won't. She takes Tiger's hard-as-rock arm and lets him pull her up to the altar. His hands grasp hers and they're so big and so sweaty and she can't help noticing that _they just don't fit_.

As the pastor speaks, that old poem her mother always used to recite swims around in Graziella's head. _Married in white, you will have chosen right_. But she can't remember all the rest. All she remembers is _Married in green, ashamed to be seen. _It echoes in her head throughout the ceremony. _Married in green, ashamed to be seen. Married in green, ashamed to be seen. Married in green, ashamed to be seen_.

"I do," she whispers.

And just like that, she is married.

Married in green.

Ashamed to be seen.


End file.
